


Fire and Ice

by onefoot_theother



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Depressed Castiel, moral ambiguity dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onefoot_theother/pseuds/onefoot_theother
Summary: SOME SAY THE WORLD WILL END IN FIREEverybody warned him that Dean Winchester was trouble.SOME SAY IN ICEBut Castiel knew that nobody was more dangerous than himself.He'd always known.OR in which Castiel falls in love with bad-boy Dean and in the process learns to love himself.





	1. Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> This is my first time publishing ANY of my works, fanfiction or otherwise. This writing has been primarily for myself, as a sort of cathartic release between the stresses of my life. So if you don't like it, I don't especially care. If you do like it, tell me why! Tell me how I can improve! Hopefully this can be a sort of release for you it was the way for me. 
> 
> I'm working through a lot of personal stuff right now, and a lot of that reflects in my writing. Therefore, there is a significant amount of violence and family conflict/teenage angst in this fic. Be warned. 
> 
> Also, this gets super h*cking cheesy and romantic so if you're not into that (first of all what is WRONG with you) then search elsewhere. For the rest of you, hold on to your seatbelts. *puts on sunglasses and makes finger guns*

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I’ve tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To know that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.

\--Robert Frost--


	2. Some Say the World Will End in Fire

Castiel wished he could be better. 

He wished he didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom, combing his hair and washing his face and brushing his teeth all while reasoning with himself about the orange prescription bottle resting on the counter. He wished he didn’t have to convince himself that he should take his medication. He wished he didn’t need the medication at all. 

He just wished he was better. 

There was an impatient knock on the door. “Hurry up, I’ve gotta get ready for school too!” Mark, his older brother, shouted from the other side of the door. 

Cas sighed and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dull and ringed with dark purple bags. His hair was a wreck, despite his attempts to pat it down with water. He took a single blue pill out of the bottle and choked it down before swinging the door open. 

“Asshole,” Mark muttered, shoving past him. He took a piss without bothering to close the door and Cas clenched his jaw and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. 

Hannah was perched on the foot of his bed, and Cas tried not to think about how he’d have to tighten the bedding again now that she’d wrinkled it. “How are you today?” She asked, tossing her ebony hair behind her shoulder. Castiel’s younger sister was devastatingly gorgeous, with clear skin that was pale in a way that wasn’t sickly, unlike Castiel’s. Her nose curved, unlike Cas’ straight nose, and her eyes were bright and wide. She patted the bed, and Cas sat beside her. She smiled expectantly, and Cas raised a single shoulder. 

“It’s still early, so jury’s not out yet.” 

“Did you take your medication?” 

He gritted his teeth and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Yes, mom.” 

“I’m worried about you, Cas. Can you just let me worry about you?”

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” 

She snorted and patted his shoulder. “You absolutely need someone to worry about you. You don’t worry enough about yourself, so I have taken the courtesy of worrying for you. Dad made coffee downstairs, and I still have my stash of creamer, if you want it.” 

“Thanks.” Cas stood, hoping she’d take the hint and do the same. He knew it would drive him absolutely nuts if he went to school without straightening out his bed. She watched him expectantly. “Han, I need you to get off my bed.” 

“Only if you promise to eat breakfast.” 

“Hannah—”

“At least a cup of coffee. You can commit to that much.” 

“Fine. I’ll drink a cup of coffee. Now please.” 

She hopped up, her red miniskirt flapping against her legs. She hovered in the doorway as Castiel made his bed for the third time that morning. 

It wasn’t the beginning of a new semester. It wasn’t the first day of a new month, or even the first day of a new week. It was Thursday. Still, Cas felt a nervous flutter in his stomach he usually associated with new beginnings. He didn’t know what the day had in store for him, but his stomach turned in anticipation.

 

Despite being the youngest, Hannah always sat in the front seat of the Station wagon. Mark always drove, despite the fact that Castiel had bought the car with the year’s worth of money he’d saved up from his first job at fifteen. Cas sat in the back, staring out the window. Hannah tapped away on her phone while Mark weaved through traffic. 

“I’m just saying you don’t have to be an ass all the time. Like, you could try being nice every once in a while,” Hannah was saying. She never glanced up from her phone even once. 

“I’m not an ass all the time,” Mark grumbled.

“Okay, I smell bullshit.” 

“You know, for someone who acts all sweet and innocent you sure swear a lot. And have a lot to say about how people should be acting.” 

This, of course, started another argument between the two. Cas, unlike Hannah, never got into too many arguments with Mark. The two were not friends, not by a longshot, but Cas was too tired most of the time to keep up with Mark. He was just hotheaded and lacking a mental-to-verbal filter. 

They found a parking spot and Mark pounded on the horn at his girlfriend. Cas winced, wishing he would take better care of his car. Mark stuck his head out the window and catcalled at his girl, which set Hannah off on a feminist rant about how he should and should not be treating women. 

Their noise faded into the background as Castiel watched an old car pull up to the drop off. There was no doubt about its age—it had to be at least a few decades old, putting even Cas’ car to shame—but it was kept well. The paint was shiny, and the engine didn’t roar. Out of the passenger seat stepped a tall, unfairly sexy guy. He was wearing old jeans over worker’s boots, both of which looked handed down. He was wearing a flannel shirt that was too big for him, but the green accents brought out the green of his eyes so that Cas could see them even from his station fifty feet away. 

“Yes, I fucking heard you, okay?” He snapped, slamming the car door shut. 

“Don’t fucking backtalk to me, you hear?” A gruff voice retorted, from somewhere inside the car Cas couldn’t see. 

The boy flipped off the driver and walked away, and a shorter, scrawnier boy scrambled out of the car and chased after him. Cas stepped out of his car and slung his backpack over his shoulder, and Hannah grabbed his arm. He jumped, looking down at her. “Where are you?” She asked quietly. “I’ve been calling your name for three minutes now. I even knocked on the window.” 

“Sorry,” Cas choked out. “Just, uh, lost in my head I guess.” 

“Well, you’d better get un-lost.” She looped her arm through his and tugged him towards the school building. “I saw you ogling that guy, and I can tell you right now that he is nothing but trouble.” 

“How could you possibly know that? Have you ever met him?” 

“Well, no…” she popped a stick of bright pink bubble gum into her mouth. “But Mrs. Taylor told us that Sam Winchester is going to be in homeroom with us, so of course I took it upon myself to Facebook stalk him—”

“—of course,” Cas said with a grin. 

“—and that’s his older brother, Dean. He doesn’t have much of an online presence, but someone tagged Sam in a video of Dean getting escorted into a police car, face bloody and bruised. The caption was ‘just another Friday night for the Winchester boys.’” 

“It’s creepy that you know so much about them.”

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it. I also happen to know that Dean is an Aquarius, and as a Cancer you are simply incompatible. 1% sexual compatibility, Castiel. You can’t fight the stars.”

“What makes you think I’m even interested?” 

“Oh please. I saw you making sex eyes at him.” 

“I was not--!”

“Don’t deny it, brother mine!” She sang. “Okay, I have to run to class, stay away from Dean Winchester, love you!” She pecked a kiss on his cheek and darted into the building. 

Cas walked in a daze to his first class, Algebra II. He’d only ever told one person that he was gay. Hannah. It wasn’t really a question of whether or not he’d tell her—they told each other everything. His brother might’ve been his least favorite person on the planet, but his sister…well, she was his favorite. And, okay, she knew him too well, and he’d been very attracted to…Dean. But it wasn’t like Cas was looking for a relationship. He was a wreck. A hot mess. He’d have to get his life together before he could even think about dating. 

 

Dean was in Algebra II with Castiel. He sat in the front, the only available seat in the classroom. Cas found himself staring at the back of Dean’s head instead of paying attention. He felt like he should say something to him but wasn’t sure where to start. “Hello, I’m Castiel. Your face makes me feel like I need a cold shower, but we can’t get in a relationship because my sister says our astrological signs are only 1% compatible, sexually speaking. Also, she knows about your run-in with the police, and way too much about your brother. Want to get some coffee?” 

Cas jolted when he realized that Dean had turned around and was looking at him. Those eyes…it wasn’t fair how gorgeous those eyes were. Cas’ heart stopped, halting the blood flow to his brain. This was the only reason he could come up with for his stupid little wave and nervous smile. He felt like a six-year-old talking to a pretty grownup. Dean chuckled and did a stupid little wave back before turning around. 

Cas groaned and buried his face in his arms, which were folded on top of his desk. “Mr. Novak, care to explain how to find the equation from a graph of a parabola?” 

“Not especially,” he groaned without lifting his head. 

The teacher tsked but carried on with the lesson.

After class, Cas worked on putting his notebooks and pencils and highlighters back into his backpack. He had a very specific way of organizing his backpack, with his notebooks in chronological order of classes, meaning his math notebook always went in the very back. His highlighters had to fit yellow-pink-blue in the pocket, with the pencils lying beneath them. It took him several minutes to be sure everything was in its place.

He was so involved in packing up he didn’t notice Dean sitting on his desk until he rapped on the surface with his knuckles. “Shit--!” Cas swore, dropping his backpack and watching the notebooks fly out in distress. He scrambled to put everything back in order, glancing up at Dean sheepishly. “Sorry—”

“What’re you apologizing for?” Dean shrugged. He had a lazy manner of speech, like his tongue couldn’t be bothered to form entire words. He had a hazy southern accent as well.

“You—startled me.” Cas raked his fingers through his hair, wishing for the bajillionth time that it would let itself be tamed. 

“Yeah, so uh, quick question.” Dean slid off the desk, and then leaned over it. His face was inches away from Castiel’s. Cas’ heart fluttered, pounding up into his throat. “Are we going to have a problem here?” When he spoke, the corner of his mouth pulled back just slightly, almost like a tiny smile. Those lips…

“Wh-what?” The proximity inhibited Cas’ ability to form coherent thoughts. What had he just asked?

“I felt you staring at me all class period, so I just wanna clear the air. Do we got a bone to pick, or can I carry on with my day?” 

Cas gaped at him. “I—uh, I—”

Dean straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, you think about that for a while, and get back to me tomorrow. In the meantime, find someone else to stare at and mind your fucking business.” 

Cas was dumbstruck, watching him saunter from the room. Hannah had been right. Dean Winchester was trouble. 

 

If Cas didn’t get out of bed in the next five minutes, he’d be late for his therapy appointment. If he was late for his appointment, he’d reason with himself that it was better to just not go. If he missed this appointment, it would be the second one in a row, which would result in the office contacting his dad and possibly terminating future appointments, which would result in an unholy shitstorm of helicopter parenting. 

Still, Cas stared at the ceiling, motionless. Two gentle knocks sounded against his door. “It’s unlocked.” His voice sounded monotone even to himself. 

“Cas?” Hannah poked her head into his room. 

He raised a single eyebrow at her and waited for her to come in. She reluctantly did, and Cas saw she was wearing a light pink sundress and bright red lipstick. On a Thursday afternoon. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Why are you all dressed up?” 

“Well…” She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced out Cas’ window. “I was kind of hoping you could take me to the McDonald’s in a few minutes.” 

Cas quirked his eyebrow even higher and sat up. “You got dressed up for the McDonald’s?” 

She gave him a deadpan stare. “I’m meeting someone there.” 

Despite his shitty mood, a smile escaped on Cas’ lips. “Yeah?” 

“Look,” she sighed, “I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this. That’s why I’m asking you instead of Mark. I just need you to drop me off and then pick me back up in like an hour or so.” 

“Who are you meeting?” Cas asked, already pulling his shoes on.

“You have to swear not to laugh. Or call me a hypocrite. Or give me that look—that one! Wipe that look off your face.” 

Cas did his best to neutralize his expression. He failed. “I’ll take you, if you buy me a milkshake and tell me who you’re meeting.” 

She mumbled something under her breath, and Cas waited for her to repeat herself. “Sam Winchester,” she finally admitted. 

At the mention of the name Winchester, Cas’ stomach did an unexpected somersault. “Haven’t you known him for like, one day? Didn’t you say that family was trouble?”

“No, I said Dean was trouble.” Her tone was defensive, and she flipped her hair over her shoulder again. A nervous tick she’d had since it was long enough to do so. “And it turns out that Sam is actually really sweet. So, we’re just going for some ice cream.” 

“Say no more. Who am I to stand in the way of awkward adolescent love?” 

“Ass,” Hannah rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I said I’d meet him there at four.” 

This was, coincidentally, the same time that Cas told his therapist he’d see him today. He wasn’t really in the mood for picking at his brain or deciphering his feelings or breathing on a timer, so he grabbed his keys from the counter and led Hannah to the garage. 

 

As Cas pulled into the parking lot, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

Mark: Sandy coming over unless u want 2 hear me getting laid stay tf away from the house

Cas groaned and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Hannah would kill him if he followed her inside, so he just sat in the parking lot with the car engine off. He wished he’d brought a book, or some headphones, or anything to do. 

Someone knocked on the passenger side window, and Cas slowly turned his head. Dean Winchester stood bent over on the other side of his vehicle, gesturing for Cas to unlock the car. He didn’t know what else to do, so he reached over and lifted up the lock stick. 

“Hey man,” Dean said, taking a seat and opening up his brown McDonald’s bag. The car flooded with the scent of grease and fried food, and Cas became intimately aware of how small the space was. 

“Um…hi.” Cas couldn’t stop staring at the way the muscles in Dean’s jaw contracted as he chewed. His eyes were magnetized to the light stubble there, and the way his throat moved like a wave when he swallowed. Beneath the smell of fast food was the subtle hint of cologne, musky and intoxicating and strangely like leather. 

“So, I had to bring my brother here to meet some chick—”

Cas wanted to blurt that “some chick” was his sister, and he should watch his mouth, but he didn’t. His brain had shut down, because Dean was looking at him now. His eyes didn’t hold that grudging fire like before, but rather a spark of…something. 

“And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to wait at home for my dad to show up, so I figured I’d get a milkshake and drive around town for a bit. See what there is to see. Then who should I spy lurking in the parking lot other than my own stalker?” 

“My name is Castiel, and I’m not you’re stalker.” 

“Castiel? The hell kinda name is Castiel?” 

Cas felt his hands go instinctively to the wheel, clutching the leather until his knuckles were white. 

“Hey man, I’m sorry. God, sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain can tell it to shut the hell up. It’s kinda cool, ya know? You don’t meet too many Castiels. My name’s Dean.” 

“I know.” Shit. Cas had absolutely not meant to say that out loud, and now he had to nervously rake his fingers through his hair and try to force some moisture into his mouth. “I mean, uh, Hannah, my sister, she—”

“Hannah, that’s the name of the chick my brother’s meeting. She’s your sister?” 

“Yeah.” Cas felt about as big as a goldfish. Dean was a forest fire, all-consuming and hot and blazing and Cas was a goldfish, drying up agonizingly slowly in the heat. 

“Shit, I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to sound like she was just some chick. I mean, Sammy wanted to take her out on a date after knowing her for like five seconds, so that’s gotta mean something, right?” 

“Yeah, she’s something all right. She heard your brother was going to be in homeroom with her and stalked his Facebook profile to find out everything she could about him.” 

Dean laughed, and the sound was raspy and smoky and so, so damn sexy. “Guess she found out a bit about me too, huh? That’s how you knew who I was?” 

Cas nodded sheepishly. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack if he attempted speaking. 

Dean dug a large order of fries out of the bag and extended it to Castiel. “Look man, I was a total dick to you earlier. My old man was being an ass and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. So, I thought I’d buy you some apology fries.” 

Cas smiled a little and accepted the offering. The briefest pause stilled in the car, when Cas’ hand was on the carton at the same time as Dean’s. A fuzzy tingling sensation tickled at the bottom of Cas’ stomach, and he nervously broke the contact. “Thank you.” 

There was a stretch of silence between them, filled with Dean tapping his fingers against the window to the beat of a song Cas couldn’t hear. “So…where are you from?” 

Dean groaned and looked at him. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t do the whole small talk. You don’t gotta feel obligated to be nice to me just because I bought you an order of fries.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“Ah, shit. See, I did it again. Don’t apologize, man.” 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

Dean laughed again, and Cas felt his heart melt into gush. It stopped beating altogether. He shoved a handful of fries into his mouth and waited…

To his unbounded relief, the food wasn’t chased with a wave of nausea. Cas had been steadily declining into poorer and poorer health, despite the doctors’ promise about steady medication and how he’d get his appetite back. He hadn’t, in months he hadn’t, and his once trim and strong body had shriveled into a too-skinny frail thing that Cas could barely stand to look at in the mornings. 

Cas’ phone buzzed and he dug it out of his pocket. He watched Dean out of the corner of his eye as he checked the text.

Hannah: OMG, were you in the parking lot the whole time?   
Hannah: HOLY SHIT, is that Dean Winchester with you?  
Hannah: Cas   
Hannah: CASTIEL

Cas sighed and pocketed his phone again. “Well, I guess my sister’s ready to go home.” 

“That must mean my brother is, too.” Dean shrugged and stared at Cas. “I’m sorry for being an ass, okay? I don’t usually mean it.”

Cas wondered why he was apologizing. Dean had already bought him apology fries. “Okay. I’ll…see you tomorrow? At school?” 

Dean chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you later. Hey!” He shouted suddenly, opening the door. “Sam, hands off of Baby!” He was gone before he could offer an explanation to Cas. 

Hannah quickly replaced Dean, her face flushed. “How was dinner?”

“That wasn’t—we just had fries. And a milkshake. Hey, so what was Dean Winchester doing in your car?”

“Why is your face all red? Did Sam buy your fries?”

“Don’t dodge!”

“You’re dodging!” 

Hannah smiled goofily, and Cas’ heart softened. He loved seeing her smile. “Whatever. Just take us back, and we can agree on a vow of silence.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I, Hannah Rebecca Novak, solemnly vow not to pester you about your affiliation, romantic or otherwise, with Dean Winchester on the sole condition that you keep your nose out of my affiliation, romantic or otherwise, with Sam Winchester.”

“Deal.”

“No, come on, you gotta say it! I gotta know!”

“Fine!” Cas laughed and placed a hand over his heart. “I promise—”

“Come on Cas, full name. Take this seriously!” She was giggling too hard for him to take anything seriously. 

“I, Castiel Novak, promise—”

“Solemnly vow.”

“Would you please just let me finish? Do you want me to vow or not?” Cas cleared his throat dramatically. “I, Castiel Novak, solemnly vow not to pester you, Hannah Rebecca Novak, about your affiliation with Sam Winchester based on the premise that you, Hannah Rebecca Novak, do not pester me about my affiliation with Dean Winchester. Romantic or otherwise.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Cas smiled, but his heart sank a little. He seriously doubted he would have any affiliation with Dean Winchester at all. He felt bad about what he’d said to Cas so he’d apologized, and that was the end of that. Cas stomach twisted with sadness, and he turned the key in the ignition and tried to ignore the empty feeling the thought left him. 

*

Dean was gone the following two days at school. Not, Cas reminded himself, that it matters. It wasn’t as if he scoured the halls like a watchman searching for Dean. That would be ridiculous and clingy. 

Cas normally enjoyed the weekends—well, as much as he enjoyed anything—because school was exhausting to him both mentally and emotionally. He was disappointed when school let out on Friday, however, for two reasons: first, he hadn’t seen Dean and therefore would have to wait until Monday—another two full days—to see him; second, his dad had planned a family outing. They were going to drive two hours to the campgrounds and sleep together in a stuffy tent and not return to civilization until Sunday afternoon. Which meant two and a half days of close quarters with his sadistic older brother. 

“Smile, boys.” Cas’ father said. “We are going to have fun.”

“I don’t see what’s fun about eating dirty food off of sticks and sleeping on a lumpy ground and having to sleep next to Mark when he hasn’t showered in three days.” Cas grumbled as he loaded his backed duffel bag into the back of his dad’s truck. 

“Come on, Cassie, the fresh air is good for you.” Hannah patted his shoulder and tied her hair back. “I’ll sleep in the middle.”

The drive itself wasn’t so bad, as Mark was too angry to be annoying. Hannah sat in the back with him, and Cas sat up front with their father. He kept shooting Cas “meaningful glances,” and he knew that as soon as they got to the campground he’d task Hannah and Mark with setting up the tent while he and Cas “went for a lap around the woods.” It was time for the scolding he knew was coming for missing his therapy session. 

“Alright, kiddos.” Their father said, killing the truck’s engine and turning around to face Mark and Hannah. “Why don’t you two set up camp while Cas and I head for a lap around the woods?” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Mark seethed. “I didn’t even want to come on this goddamn trip—”

“Watch your language, Mark. You can set up the tent or you can sleep outside of it tonight. Take your pick.” 

Mark glared at Castiel, because of course this was somehow his fault. “Cas!” Their dad called, calling him out of his head. 

“Coming.” 

They walked in silence for a while, until they’d gone the equivalent of what Cas guessed was a quarter mile. “So, Dr. Pond called me.” 

“Okay.” Cas stared at his feet as they meandered forward. Dead pine needles scattered around the floor like a soggy, haphazard rug. 

“Says he hasn’t seen you in a couple weeks.” 

“I know.” 

His father stopped walking, and Cas reluctantly followed suit. He couldn’t meet his dad’s eyes—he already knew the disappointment and concern he’d find there. “Castiel, you can’t do this again. Don’t you remember what happened last time you started skipping appointments?” 

Cas’ hand moved unconsciously to his stomach. He would not—could not—ever forget the sensation after he’d impulsively swallowed the remainder of his antidepressants. He’d stopped taking them, and then took them all at once. It wasn’t as though he was trying to kill himself. He didn’t even know why he’d done it. 

“Cas, listen to me. I care about you, okay? I know I’m not around all the time, but I care about you. A lot. And it worries me that you’ve stopped going to your appointments.” 

“I just missed two.” Cas said, but his voice was small, helpless. 

His dad sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry your life has to be like this, okay? I’m sorry you’re depressed. But you can’t let it get the best of you. I need you to stay here with me, okay Castiel?”

Cas nodded and did his best to ignore the hollow pit feeling in his stomach. 

“Good. Now Dr. Pond and I have arranged for him to come to your school twice a week, since you can’t seem to visit him outside of school.” 

“But—”

“Cas, it’s for the best. I promise. Maybe after a couple of weeks things can go back to normal. For now, you’ll just be meeting with him during your homeroom right after lunch. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now come on, let’s go make sure Hannah and Mark haven’t strangled each other with the tent by now.

 

The weekend, as expected, had been hellish. Cas had been squeezed between Hannah and their father in the tent. He’d gotten so cold that he’d had to crawl into Hannah’s sleeping bag with her, and while that finally warmed him his position was so uncomfortable he hadn’t slept at all. Come Sunday afternoon, his back was stiff and his head was pounding and all he’d wanted was a good night’s rest in his own bed. 

Which, of course, he didn’t get. 

Hannah was face-down on Cas’ bed, groaning dramatically. “I don’t want to go to school.” 

Cas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and didn’t respond. He was actually looking forward to school, if only to see Dean Winchester again. 

“You’re thinking about Dean Winchester.” Hannah said abruptly and with biting accusation.

“I am not.” Cas defended, shoving her off of his bed. “Would you just let me make my bed once?” 

Mark was on the phone with Sandy the entire drive to school, which meant Hanna swore frequently and Cas clutched the seat as they sped through yellow lights and narrowly swerved out of near-collisions. 

“Jesus Mark, you’re going to kill us someday.” Hannah grumbled as she got out of the car. Cas’ legs felt like jelly. Mark tossed him the keys, and Cas’ hands fell embarrassingly short of the mark and they crashed on the sidewalk. 

“Nice catch, asswipe. Sandy’s taking me to her grandparent’s house after school, so you can take the car home.”

“Thank you ever so much,” Cas grumbled. “For giving me permission to drive my car home.” 

Mark rolled his eyes and shouldered his backpack. “Whatever. Later.”

Hannah tightened the bow in the bandana holding her hair back. Cas turned his gaze away from her and looked for that old Chevy again. Hannah punched him in the shoulder. “Ouch, Han, what the hell?” He rubbed at his arm and glowered at her petulantly. 

“You’re obsessed with Dean. I can see it in your eyes. You’re looking for him right now, aren’t you? Anyway, meet me at lunch, okay? I’ll take you to your therapy appointment before homeroom.”

Cas blushes and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear her. “Fine. See you later.”

*

To Cas’ utter delight, Dean was late for school that day. So late,in fact, that he and Sam were just checking in at the office when Cas and Hannah walked in. “Hey!” Dean said, his face instantly brightening. 

Cas’ heart soared and he got a little lightheaded. Was Dean getting closer, or was Cas’ vision tunneling?

Hand on his shoulder. 

Dean’s hand. 

On his shoulder. 

Not tunneling, then. 

If Cas had previously had any questions about his sexual orientation, they would’ve been shattered in that touch. “Hi,” Cas squeaked. 

Hannah elbowed him, and he pinched her. He hadn’t seen Dean in what had to have been decades and he wanted a moment with him. “What happened to your eye?” Cas suddenly realized with an electric jolt that Dean’s right eye was bruised. 

“It’s actually my nose you should be worried about.” Dean grinned. Upon closer inspection, Cas realized he was right. It looked like it might’ve been broken. He also realized that Dean was dodging the question. “Hey Sammy, don’t forget to ask about signing up for track.” He turned back to Cas as the receptionist handed Sam the appropriate paperwork. “It’s the damndest thing. We’re staying here, for like, at least two years.”

Cas didn’t understand why that was the damndest thing, but Dean’s excitement was contagious. He grinned so wide his face hurt. Hannah elbowed him again, harder. “Cas, I need get back to homeroom soon.”

Dean gave her a weird look. He probably didn’t understand why Hannah needed permission to leave. Cas didn’t bother explaining. He had this bubbly, excited energy building pressure inside of him. His hands even shook a little. 

“Anyway.” Dean smiled, unconsciously biting down on his lip. “I’ll see you in math, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, in a completely normal voice. He and Dean parted ways and—

Wait. 

Shit. 

That wasn’t what happened. 

No, what happened was the energy in Cas had burst free, in the form of an over-excited sigh as he blurted, “I’m, like, really gay.” 

Sam looked up from his paperwork to stare at him. The receptionist stared at him. Hannah stared at him. 

Dean stared at him. 

He wasn’t smiling. 

Shit, he wasn’t smiling. Cas should cover this up, should make a joke about it, should act flippant. But he couldn’t. His mind was frozen. He’d left his rational decision-making at home with his breakfast, apparently. 

Dean didn’t say a word, but patted Cas on the shoulder. Then he was gone, and Hannah was staring at him, and Sam was trying his hardest not to stare at him, and Cas felt like a first-class asswipe.   
 


	3. Some Say in Ice.

Cas had been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, since he’d gotten home from school. Hannah had been picking at piano keys downstairs for just as long, the sound carrying through the large library and up into the bedrooms above. 

Cas closed his eyes. Hannah had always liked playing, though had refused to take lessons. Everything she knew was picked up from YouTube videos or learned from Cas. Right now, she was sounding out a rough rendition of Bastille’s Oblivion. His stomach churned, and he turned to his side. He was suddenly fourteen again. It was Hannah’s twelfth birthday, and she was sitting on the piano bench beside him as he played a composition of the very same song he’d written himself. He’d worked on it for months after he found out it was her favorite song. 

She’d been so happy, and seeing her so happy had made Cas so happy. 

He was in the present again, and bile was rising in his throat. He dashed to the bathroom and emptied what little substance was in his stomach. His back was trembling, his entire body working up a sweat as he continued to heave even after the vomit had run dry. 

He leaned away from the toilet despite his still-convulsing body. He curled as small as he could, clutching his stomach and burying his face in his arms. 

There was a distant sound. It grew gradually larger, until he could recognize it as knocking. The banging on the door was unbearable. Go away! He wanted to scream. 

Hannah entered the bathroom. She was all bright yellow cardigans and dark hair pulled back and big, brown, concerned eyes. “Cassie? What happened?”

“Piss off, Hannah,” he choked out. He was sobbing now, his arms weakening their grasp. No—no. He felt his thought spiral descending upon him before it actually approached. 

You can’t even listen to your sister poke at piano keys without feeling so goddamn miserable. What’s wrong with you? You can’t feel any sense of joy. Your happiness only leads to pain. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it. 

Cas’ body went slack. His tears stopped abruptly, and his jaw slackened. He hadn’t realized how much tension was in his body. It hadn’t been a satisfying release. His fingers and toes tingled numbly as he slumped against the wall of the bathtub and stared at—no, through—his sister. 

“Cas.”

He felt like his head was underwater. Like he was seeing the world, but warped and distorted. Sound bounced off a foot away from his face. Hannah grabbed his shoulder and violently shook him. She was moving in slow motion. The world was in slow motion.

Cas thought he was going to be sick again, but there was nothing left to throw up. Suddenly Mark was in front of him, and his lips were moving, but Cas wasn’t hearing whatever he was saying. He turned and yelled at Hannah, and then she was on the phone, and Cas blinked slowly—so slowly. 

Then there were other hands on his arms, gripping them tightly. A woman Cas didn’t recognize was in front of him, asking him questions he couldn’t hear. The lighting changed dramatically, and he had the vaguest idea that he might be in an ambulance. Everything after that turned to black. 

 

When Cas woke in a hospital bed the following morning, he wasn’t exactly surprised. He remembered the events of the prior night, albeit in a hazy and distant way. 

“I see you’re awake again. Plan on staying awake this time?” 

Cas blinked his eyes into focus and found Dr. Pond sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, smiling at Cas over his bifocals. “Did I wake up before?”

“Several times. You’ve made some very interesting confessions, Castiel Novak. Apparently, you quote…” he flipped through his clipboard, “‘know who killed the tsar of Russia’.” 

Cas blushed and tried to sink further into his pillows. “How long have you been here?”

“About an hour. I only have fifteen minutes before I have to head back to the office, but I wanted to stick around in case you woke up again. What happened, Castiel?”

Cas had a pounding headache and his body felt like it was made of those prank poppers. Add a bit too much pressure, and he was going to blow up. “I…am not sure.” 

Dr. Pond quirked an eyebrow up in that condescending way of his. “Talk me through it.” 

Cas hated when Dr. Pond said this. He hated that he always had to say what he was feeling, had to somehow validate himself to his therapist. Sometimes he wanted to just not have to go, and not have to worry about everybody making such a big damn deal about it. 

“I’ve upset you.” 

“No, I just—” Cas groaned and stared at the ceiling. You can tell him, dummy, he’s your therapist. Aside from Hannah, you trust him more than anybody. He covered his face with both hands. “Argh! I just—I haven’t been able to really…feel, you know? I go through every day like I’m dreaming, and I’m just waiting to wake up and I never do because it’s just my fucking life. I get happy, I get sad, but it never lasts. I’m always just…” Cas was crying now. He remembered now, the way his body had suddenly shut down in the middle of his panic attack. He remembered Hannah’s song triggering old memories Cas had been trying to force away, and he remembered reacting badly to it. More than that, he remembered the fuzziness that followed. He remembered feeling… “numb.” 

But that wasn’t exactly true, Cas realized. His mind flashed to several days ago, when Dean Winchester had extended that carton of fries. That feeling…it wasn’t like the dulled, muted feelings Cas had been experiencing for years. No, that feeling was alive. 

Suddenly, Cas felt like telling someone about it. He turned to Dr. Pond. “What’s that smile about, huh?” Dr. Pond was reciprocating it. “Quite the change in mood, young man.” 

“There’s this…guy.”

“Oh?” 

“And…I am…”

Dr. Pond didn’t finish the sentence for him, like Cas desperately wished he would. “I’m into him.”

Dr. Pond nodded sagely, still not offering any comment. “Anyway, he makes me feel…something, you know? And after not feeling anything for so long…something is like a drug.” 

“Something is good. Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’?” 

Cas sighed. “He’s new to town, and I’ve barely known him a week. Hannah thinks…he’s dangerous. I think she’s worried that he’s going to destroy me. You know.” 

Dr. Pond narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You don’t sound like you agree.” 

Cas thought again to his stomach retching, to his hands trembling, his brain completely shutting down. 

“I think if anybody’s going to destroy me…I am.”

Dr. Pond glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’d love to talk more about this tomorrow at school, Castiel.” 

“Won’t I see you today at school?”

Dr. Pond chuckled. “It’s nearly 2 pm, Cas. I have to head back to the office. Hope you feel better.” 

Shortly after Cas’ therapist left, his doctor came in. “Morning, Castiel.” He tapped Cas’ arm with the cap of his pen. “How are we feeling today, huh?”

“What happened to me?” Cas had a fuzzy memory, but he wanted someone to fill in the pieces. 

“From what your sister has told me—well, from what I could make out between the tears—you had a depressive episode yesterday at about six p.m. You vomited several times before becoming nonresponsive on the bathroom floor. She called for your brother, and he had her call for an ambulance. Apparently, this sort of thing has happened once before, when you overdosed on your antidepressants two years ago.” The doctor raised an eyebrow, and Cas felt about three inches tall. “We tested your system for drugs, of course, but the only trace of Xanax found in your blood was your usual daily dosage.” 

“So what you’re saying is I’m cleared to go home?” 

The doctor smiled and chuckled a little. “What I’m saying is that your release is something I’d really like to discuss with a parent. Where’s your father?” 

“He…” Cas tried to remember. He summoned the image of his father, briefcase in one hand, suitcase in the other, as he left the door. “He had a book signing in Los Angeles this weekend, and a somewhere in Orange County.” 

“So, he’s across the country, then? Has he been notified of your hospitalization?”

Cas woke up like, ten minutes ago. He wanted to mention this, but thought it wise to keep his mouth shut. “When can I go home then?”

“That’s what I’d like to discuss with your father. Castiel, with one incident like this we as healthcare providers become very concerned. With two, we become downright worried. I’m worried about your safety, Cas, and I think it might be wise for you to be placed in a crisis unit—”

“NO.” Cas bolted upright in bed. He’d already missed one day of school, if he missed any more he’d get so far behind he’d never catch up. Beneath that, though, he was worried about Dean. He felt that they were in the tentative first stages of friendship, and he didn’t want to screw that up by never seeing him, or having Dean find out he was sent to a crisis unit. “No, you can’t make me go. I won’t go.” 

“Alright, calm down. It’s just something we need to think about, especially with someone with your history. Because you don’t have a guardian present, I won’t officially recommend it. However, for that same reason, I’d like to keep you here in the hospital where we can keep an eye on you until your father returns.” 

A hot spark of panic burned in Cas’ stomach. He didn’t want to wait until his father returned. God only knew how long that could take. Still, it was better than a crisis center, where he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. 

 

Cas was wandering around his floor by the time breakfast of the following day rolled around. He passed the nurse that had done his routine checkup, and she smiled at him. “Morning, Cas! Heading for some breakfast? You could certainly use the calories!” 

“I’m not wasting my calories on junky hospital food,” Cas said. He’d used a joking tone but was completely serious. He could barely keep regular food down, let alone mass-produced cafeteria-style food contaminated with the negative energy given off by grieving and/or sick people. 

“I thought you might say that.” She smiled and pulled a little paper pastry bag out of her purse. “I snuck you in a banana muffin. Don’t tell Dr. Chase—I told him this morning that bakery only had one banana muffin left.” 

Cas smiled and accepted the offering. “Thanks.” 

She winked conspiratorially before running off to the staff room. Cas watched her go and felt his phone buzz. 

He didn’t recognize the number. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER: missed u at skl ystrday

Cas pocketed his phone and picked into his muffin. He felt bad about the crumbs he left on the floor, so he shuffled into the cafeteria to eat over a table. The muffin was delicious, and Cas’ stomach rumbled at the first taste of delicious food he’d had in days. 

UNKOWN NUMBER: have a suprize 4 u 

Cas was entirely not in the mood for this. He was about to tap out an angry reply when his phone buzzed in his hand

UNKNOWN NUMBER: this is dean, btw  
UNKNOWN NUMBER: hana gv me ur #

Part of him was horrified at Dean’s atrocious spelling. A larger, much louder part, was soaring because Dean Winchester missed him at school. 

CASTIEL: A surprise, haha, should I be worried?  
UNKOWN NUMBER: guess ull have 2 show up 2day n find out

Cas grinned like an idiot. His next text was sent to his sister. 

CASTIEL: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, I LITERALLY LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW  
HANNAH: ;)

Cas literally could not wait for his father to come pick him up from the hospital. He’d flown home late that night, cancelling his meetings. He’d kept a wary eye on Cas as the doctor explained the situation, but Cas was too busy texting Dean to care. They’d texted the entire day: through school, after school, into the night. They somehow had things to talk about for hours. By the time they pulled into the garage, Cas’ fingers were sore.

Hannah gave him a massive bear hug the moment he walked inside. “You scared the hell out of me, you piece of shit!” She said into his shoulder. 

“Language!” Their father snapped. “Hannah, your brother needs to get some rest. Cas, I’ll be in my office if you need me. I had a brilliant idea for my next novel…”

Cas and Hannah shot each other a look. “Brilliant ideas” usually meant their dad holed himself up in his office, only leaving to pee, for days on end. “Okay. Thanks.” 

Cas was leaning against his headboard with his legs tucked into his blanket. Hannah was sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, watching him text Dean. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“I seriously cannot thank you enough. What did he say to you?” 

Hannah grinned and mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key. 

“Come on, Hannah!” He moved to his knees and clasped his hands together. “I’m begging you! I have to know what he said. What did he say?” 

“Something along the lines of, ‘oh Hannah, you simply must give me your brother’s number, I want to sext him into the wee hours of morning, and run away with him—’”

“Very funny.” Cas chewed on his fingernails nervously. “Han, do you really think he’s going to destroy me?”

Hannah shifted uncomfortably, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I…” she closed her eyes. “I haven’t seen you so happy in months, Cas. The way you look at him scares the hell out of me, because he’s unpredictable. We don’t know anything about him.”

That wasn’t technically true, Cas knew. Cas knew Dean had a hard life. He could see it in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. He knew that the flame inside of him exploded at the simplest prodding, but that he was a genuine and sweet guy. Cas knew that Dean would do anything for his brother. “You don’t have to protect me, Hannah.”

She looked at him for a long time. Her eyes were wide and blue and glassing over with tears. “I love you, Castiel. And you scared the hell out of me. I thought you ODed again. Do you know what that did to me, seeing you on the ground like that?”

Cas’ stomach twisted. He hated it when his family talked like this, especially Hannah. When they turned his depression against him. “Yeah, must’ve been tough.” He mumbled.

She groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. “Great, I’ve screwed this up. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Castiel.”

His heart softened a little, and he peeled back his bedding. “Feel like having a sleepover?”

She grinned and crawled into bed beside him. 

 

 

The following day at school, Dean was waiting for Cas on the curb. He and Cas had texted all morning. He was holding his hands behind his back like a little kid. “Castiel!” he called out as soon as Cas opened the car door. 

Cas laughed and walked over. “Did they assign you to the welcoming committee?” 

“I missed you, man.” Dean grinned and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. His thumb dug into Cas’ collar with a gentle pressure that shorted out the circuits in Cas’ brain. He only had a second to reboot when Dean removed his hand, leaving a cold imprint. “Are you ready for your present?”

Cas nodded, and Dean brought his hand out. “Oh God,” Cas said, covering his face with both hands. His face was boiling hot, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell it wasn’t red as a lobster. “I thought you’d forgotten.” 

The gift was a cheap dollar-store pencil, the wooden kind that nobody used after second grade anymore. However, it had a fuzzy felt coating and was rainbow striped. Rainbow. 

Dean laughed and pried one of Cas’ hands away from his face. Cas’ wrist was skinny enough for Dean to encircle it completely with his fingers. Cas did his best to focus on that—on wondering whether or not Dean could feel the jump of his pulse—while Dean placed the pencil in his hand. He didn’t pull his hand away, even after Cas’ fingers closed around his gift. “Saw it at the pharmacy and thought about you. Ya know, being really gay and all.”

The words should’ve stung but coming from Dean’s mouth they just sounded teasing. And, admittedly, incredibly hot. “Thanks,” Cas finally managed to say. He couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, his face still flushed. Instead, he looked at his hand, where Dean’s was still holding it. 

Dean seemed to suddenly remember where his hand was and quickly released Cas. “So, you were in the hospital?” 

“Yeah.” Cas opened his backpack and carefully placed his new pencil in its spot as he walked toward the building. 

“Your sister said it was depression.”

“Yeah.”

“That fucking sucks, man.”

Cas halted, and it took Dean a few paces to realize. He backtracked and gave Cas a quizzical look. “It does.”

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Because you’re not skirting around it like literally everybody else in my life.”

Dean’s smile reflected Cas’. It was crooked and relieved. “Why should I? It’s not like you’ve got the plague or anything.”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like mental illness is taboo. You can’t talk about it, or you’ll summon evil spirits. Or they’ll tie you to a stake and burn you alive.”

“God save the poor bastards that have mental illness, too, huh?” 

They both chuckled for a bit before the conversation ebbed. They walked to the doors of the school silently. “Well, I’ll see you in math, okay?” Dean nudged Cas’ shoulder with his own before turning to head to his class. 

“Wait—!” Cas suddenly called. His heart was racing, and his brain was static, and his mouth was running faster than his brain. “Do you want to come over later? To…to study?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. The movement sent electric shocks all throughout Cas’ body. Did everything he did have to be so damn sexy? “Math?”

Cas smiled. “No, astrophysics. Yes, math.” 

Dean shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Sounds fun. Sam’s got track after school anyway, so I’d just be riding the bus alone or somethin’.”

“Great.” Cas was beaming. 

Dean’s eyes were trained on Cas’ lips. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

*

Cas couldn’t wait for the day to end. He sat in Dr. Pond’s makeshift office in the nurse’s room. Distractedly Cas wondered what would happen if a student needed to see the nurse while Cas was in here. He thought they should move to the vice principal’s office, especially since she was always at lunch during Cas’ homeroom. 

“Still with me, Castiel?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He’d completely forgotten that Dr. Pond was there. 

“Let’s pause for a moment and assess how you’re feeling. What’s going on right now? Are you anxious, bored…?”

“What? No. Just distracted.”

Dr. Pond purses his lips. He had gray hair with hints of its old blond in it, always gelled back in a composed wave. He was thin, but not like Castiel. He was healthy thin, from years of avoiding excess carbs and exercising for fun. “You’re popping your knuckles on your left hand, Castiel.” 

Cas looked down, and saw that he had indeed been absently doing so. Even after they’d popped he’d continued the motion, and his fingers ached. “I—”

“That was your physical manifestation of internal stress, if I remember. After your accident with that hand.”

Cas kept his face neutral as he stared at the poster about safe sex behind Dr. Pond’s Head. “Nothing’s bothering me, I guess I just didn’t realize I was doing it.” 

“I’m your therapist, Castiel. I can’t help you unless you are open and honest with me. If you want to say nothing is wrong, then fine. We will sit here in awkward silence for our remaining twenty-seven minutes.” He set aside his clipboard and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, anything you want to share?” 

“Remember that boy, that we talked about at the hospital?”

“Yes, I remember.” 

“Well, he’s coming over later.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Cas shifted. “Not exactly. I just… It’s like this is the longest day of school, in the history of ever.” 

“Excited. Impatient. Help me out here, Castiel. Sometimes identifying your emotions is an important step to understanding them.” 

Cas sighed impatiently. He didn’t want to understand his emotions. He wanted to be confused by them like every other teenager on the planet. He wanted to be confused by his emotions but be okay with that fact. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to be hurting in a way that made sense. 

Dean made him feel that way.

Or rather, Dean made him feel like he could become that way. Dean had a badass reputation for being nothing but trouble, for getting into fights (the rumors had spread like wildfire after his broken nose several days prior), for not giving a shit about whose hearts he broke. What a load of bullshit.

Dean was the kind of guy that bought Cas fries as an apology for being rude. He was the kind of guy that worried when Cas didn’t show up at school and texted him to make sure he was okay. He was the kind of guy that bought him an embarrassing present when Cas had made a complete ass of himself in the office. He was the kind of guy that made sense. 

Before Cas could even begin to articulate his thoughts into words, the bell rang through the building. Homeroom period was over. “Thanks Dr. Pond. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Goodbye, Castiel.” 

 

Cas waited anxiously outside the car for Dean to arrive. His palms were so sweaty his phone had almost slipped onto the pavement. When he saw Dean, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting. It jumped up and down and his arm shot into the air in an embarrassing wave, all while his brain watched in horror. Dean only laughed and gave him a quick nod to acknowledge that he saw him. 

“You’re such an asswipe, Castiel.” Mark grumbled from inside the car. 

“Be nice to him, asshole.” Hannah punched his arm from the passenger seat. 

“Hey, Dean!” God, he was way too excited. He felt like a little puppy. They both got into the car. “This is my brother Mark, and my sister, Hannah.” 

Hannah turned around and gave Dean a dazzling smile. “Hey, Dean. I Facebook stalked you before you moved here. You fix cars?” 

Dean blinked in surprise at her honesty. “Um, yeah. My dad taught me.”

“Great, because my best friend Claire’s dad works at a bar, and he is best friends with this guy Russ—whose son is a total creep by the way, he always tries to sneak into the girl’s locker room—but anyway Russ works at this car mechanic place and he told Claire’s dad who mentioned to Claire who told me that they’re looking to hire part-time. You should totally apply there.” 

“Sorry,” Cas whispered, “it’s kind of hard to keep up with her sometimes.” 

“Uh, thanks. Do you have their number, or—”

“No, but I’m about 99 percent sure you have the internet. The place is called The Car Doctor. Mark for the love of God, we are trying to have a conversation. Turn the goddamn radio down.” 

“This is my song, Han. And if you have such a problem with it, you can walk home from school tomorrow.” 

“You know,” Dean mentioned, “my dad always said that ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his—’ or, uh, her— ‘cakehole’.”

“That sounds like a bullshit rule.” Hannah reached over and turned down the radio. “And Mark, you are such an unholy terror.” 

“It’s just a song, Hannah!” 

They argued the rest of the drive home. Cas’ head was spinning, because the car was once again filling with the smell of Dean’s cologne and Cas was pretty sure it was enough to intoxicate him. 

When they finally pulled up to the driveway, Dean’s eyes bugged out. “No shit, this is where you guys live?”

“Is that surprising?” Cas asked. He was suddenly immensely self-conscious about the large white house with the pompous pillars in the front porch and the winding sidewalk adorned with flowers and bushes leading up to the door. 

“I mean, yeah. No offense, Cas, but your car’s a piece of shit. I just assumed—Great, I sound like an asshole again.” Dean blushed, and it was so adorable that Cas thought he might squeal if he wasn’t careful. 

“I bought the car myself,” Cas confessed. He and Dean followed Cas’ siblings inside. The garage opened into a kitchen, with hardwood floors and white counters and a chandelier. Cas was uncomfortably aware of how much it looked like the cover of an interior design magazine. 

“I’m going to make myself some macaroni. You two want any?”

“I want some!” Mark called from halfway up the stairs. 

“Too bad, I wasn’t asking you!” Hannah shouted. 

“Sure.” Cas answered for the both of them. He set his back pack on the table, and Dean followed suit. Dean glanced into the foyer, and through to the living room where rested the grand piano. 

“Who plays?” He asked, nudging his chin toward the instrument. 

Cas’ spine stiffened one vertebra at a time. “Nobody,” he answered the same time that Hannah said “Castiel.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Chill, man. I’m not going to ask you to play for me or anything. You don’t have to lie about it.” 

“I used to play. I don’t anymore.” Cas’ tone was clipped and certainly did not prompt further conversation. 

Still, Dean asked the one question Cas didn’t want to answer. “Why’d you stop?” 

There was an extended silence. Hannah was silent in the kitchen, staring into the pot of water and waiting for it to boil. Cas waited for Dean to qualify that he didn’t answer if he didn’t want to, and that Dean shouldn’t have asked, but he didn’t. 

And it was such a fucking relief. 

Dean was the realest person Cas had ever met. He was upfront about everything. He shamelessly asked questions that would make others squirm. He told truths that offended others. Maybe that was why Cas decided it was time for him to tell a little truth himself. 

“I used to play really well. I’m not lying, either. I was working to get a musical scholarship to Juilliard. When I was diagnosed with depression at fifteen, I was able to use my music as an outlet. I was handling things really well, and then…” Cas heaved a deep sigh, turning to look at the piano. He’d spent years averting his eyes and trying to pretend it didn’t exist. “When I turned sixteen, I broke my left hand. I was in a cast for three months. The non-dominant hand is naturally the weaker of the two, and so musicians have to work extra hard to match the skill levels. Maybe if I had broken my right hand, I could’ve used the opportunity to strengthen my left. But I didn’t. 

“I knew any chance at a scholarship was shattered. I was crushed. I couldn’t touch a piano for weeks, and…I haven’t touched one since.” 

Cas finally allowed his eyes to meet Dean’s. An extended silence passed between them, tense with words unsaid. Finally, Dean reached over until his index finger was just brushing against Cas’. Cas’ entire body flooded with a comfortable warmth. “You’re so…you have such an old soul, Castiel.” 

The words shocked Cas into the past. Suddenly he was ten years old, sitting on his grandmother’s porch and watching Hannah and Mark play in the sprinklers. “Your soul is so much older than your body, Cas,” she’d said, smiling down at him. “You’re so mature, wise beyond your years. It’s a blessing, but it’s also a curse. Don’t let all that experience weigh you down.” 

Cas thought of the prescription bottle resting on his bathroom counter. “Yeah,” he croaked to Dean, “I’ve been told."


	4. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry....

Hey everybody who is reading this story! First of all, thank you SO MUCH for the comments/hits. This is my first EVER published work of writing. My goal was to have 1 chapter out a week, but I've kind of been slacking. *sweats nervously as my academic deadlines grind their fists into their palms and draw their fingers against their necks from the corner* I have been taking Spring semester classes at my University, and with the closing up of the semester I've simply run out of time for my hobbies. My last final of the semester is tomorrow, and after that I should be (hopefully) back on track! Much love, 

onefoot_theother


	5. Hiatus

It's been a while...

My grandpa died a few weeks ago, and it's been really hard on my family. I've had to take a semester off of school and move home for the summer to work, and I'm really not in a super write-y place right now. 

I'm going on an indefinite hiatus. Thank you so much to those of you who were willing to give my story a try, and my apologies for not being able to continue it. Read on! 

onefoot_theother


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